


Le regard divin

by orphan_account



Category: Les Twins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Larry is jealous.
Relationships: Larry Bourgeois/Laurent Bourgeois
Kudos: 8





	Le regard divin

Outside the club, in the cold, bright night, they waited for the car, pressed together, Lau’s hand in the pocket of his jacket, the light from the neon signs painting his face in greens and reds. In the car, his hand rested high on the inside of Larry’s thigh, and in the hotel, by mutual tacit consent, they walked back together to Laurent’s room.

“Eleni’s friend,” he said.

“Jenny.”

“Yeah. She liked you.”

Laurent grinned. “I know.”

Larry stepped closer to him, pinning him against the edge of the bed, and nuzzled his fluffy hair. “But she can’t have you. You’re mine.”

“Yours and only yours?”

“Yeah,” said Larry. He didn’t care that Laurent was mocking him: it was true. But as he said it he thought about the workshop again – Lau’s thin top stretching over his chest as he sank to the floor in front of him in a performance of submission so blatant that it was no longer submission, but domination. Laurent giving himself, his beauty, to their eyes – and he could do nothing. It was… flagrant.

“You _are_ mine." He put a hand on Laurent’s jaw and stroked him, and then leaned in and bit roughly at his bottom lip, and Laurent opened his mouth, and for a moment they were kissing, Lau’s tongue running over his teeth. Laurent pulled away, leaving him breathless.

“So?” he said.

“So what?” Larry couldn’t look away from his mouth.

Laurent drew him closer with a hand on his back, and cupped the back of his neck, his thumb nudging his chin so that Larry had to look up. “You’re gonna prove I’m yours. Obviously. The question, my brother,” – his hand in his twists – “is: you or me?”

Something in the gesture or the words took him back to the night after the Vogue Gala. After the after-party, still in their white shirts, and Laurent had had him against the wall of his hotel room, one hand twisted in his hair. And later, in the same room: Lau in his lap, shreds of moonlight on his shoulders, taking every inch of him.

Perhaps Laurent knew what he was seeing. Larry could feel himself flushing. He touched Lau’s hip. “Me,” he said, and Lau kissed him on the mouth, so sweetly that he sighed into it.

“Of course."

His hand was on Larry’s lower back, his fingers dipping under the waistband of his boxers.

“Clothes."

It wasn't an order, just... a statement. Larry stripped off his hoodie and T-shirt and pulled down his jeans, and took off his socks, and discarded his necklace, while Lau watched with calm eyes. And when he was done Lau took hold of his hips, peeling down his boxers, and sat down on the bed, pulling Larry down with him, and Larry was in his lap, and Lau’s fingers were inside him, and Larry was clinging to his shoulders.

His warm mouth against his neck, Laurent said, “Say what you want.”

He felt the flush in his cheeks again, and he looked down at the waistband of Laurent’s tented sweatpants. Lau kissed his neck, his chin, his ear, and when Larry felt him trembling against him too, he said, “Want you to fuck me. Want you inside me.”

Laurent groaned. He looked up at Larry, his eyes huge, and Larry put a hand to each side of his face and kissed him, licking the inside of his mouth.

When they broke apart, he said, “You don’t know what you sound like.”

He smiled. “I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s how you sound too. When you’re begging me.”

Laurent touched his cheek. “Are you begging me?”

“Yes,” he said. He shifted his weight, and Lau reached down and his dick sprang free, fully hard and flushed and wet at the head where it touched Larry’s stomach. He helped him lift himself on his hands, and he sank down, and the heat and stretch were – almost too much, so perfectly close to too much that he moaned, and Lau kissed him, swallowing the sound.

Never had Lau, looking up at him, looked more beautiful; though he looked older too, in his eyes and the shadow of his stubble. And Larry knew his thoughts as well as he knew his own.

“Go slowly,” he said, and his eyes were burning black, full of Larry’s own feelings reflected back, half possessiveness and half aching, unbearable love,

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Baudelaire’s “Que diras-tu ce soir…” (“What will you say tonight…”)


End file.
